


Shh, Don't Tell the Hyungs

by awkwardtofu211



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Secret Identity, Undercover, sehun's tryna keep a lot of secrets here, will he succeed, you and i will find out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardtofu211/pseuds/awkwardtofu211
Summary: After the bombing of an Exo concert, Oh Sehun is found dead. Korea is in chaos. Fans around the world are in shock. The members themselves can hardly believe it. Sehun can't really believe it either - because he's supposed the be dead when he is very much alive. And he definitely can't believe that he has to go back to Exo and work with them again, this time undercover.





	1. lifeline

It's dark in the cabin but Sehun doesn't mind it.

 

What he does mind, however, is the constant ringing of his old phone every thirty or so minutes, loud and sharp in an otherwise silent room, slicing through the air uninvited. It interrupts his little isolation, which resides deep in the woods and makes everything seem peaceful. A small, dainty little place where he's in his own world. A place where he's in control.  

 

_Riiiiing._ Sehun clenches his fist on the flimsy fabric of the armrest to stop himself from throwing it against a wall.

 

"I'm dead," he says to empty air. "So stop calling me."

 

_Riiiiiiing._

 

"Urgh," Sehun groans, flopping further into the couch pillows. As he sinks further and further into the softness, his hand brushes something hard and rectangular between the cracks of the sofa. His eyes fly open. His stomach tenses.  Sehun immediately springs up into a crouch with both arms extended towards the object, flipping the couch cushion with extreme force and bracing himself for the impact of a bomb when - oh.

 

His TV remote sits innocently on rusted springs. There's no timer. No red blinking dot.

 

Sehun groans again, louder this time as he falls on his butt with a plop, his legs outstretched in front of him. "Oh Sehun, you'll really be the death of yourself."

 

It's been days since the bombing. They still haven't found his body amidst the ash and the rubble, but he knows everyone pretty much assumes he's dead. Sora says it's better that way. Sehun's indifferent.

 

But it's really not just that. Sehun's hurt. Sehun's in pain. Sehun wants to run screaming down the road and tear up the whole forest because he's Very Mad and Wants Someone To Do Something. Unfortunately, he feels like that 'someone' is most likely going to be him.

 

He grabs the remote and absently pushes buttons. Technology is usually the best way to forget, he reasons. Maybe laugh at Heechul hyung as he makes a fool out of himself on TV. Roll his eyes at stupid kdrama chick flicks. Anything will do. The old TV slowly creaks it's way to life and as the blurry images begin to focus, Sehun's eyes widen as big as saucers because he sees people. Very familiar people.  

 

Jongin.

 

Luhan.

 

Jongin and Luhan.

 

Luhan and Jongin.

 

The TV suddenly seems like the worst idea in the world.

 

"Luhan-shi! Luhan-shi! What is the status of Oh Sehun?"

He can't take his eyes off of them. Their faces are twisted into so much pain, so much hurt, and so much sadness that Sehun finds himself gasping for air because _it hurts_ and now he's hyperventilating and he's seeing blurry and Luhan opens his mouth and -

 

"Authorities have just declared my best friend, Oh Sehun dead."

 

Sehun's heart stops. It's done; they've actually done it. Luhan clears his throat and looks directly at the camera. It's almost as if he's speaking to Sehun himself.

 

"Even though they never found his body, they claim it was burned to ash in the fire."

 

A few people are crying in the background. The crowd around him his silent with grief as fans hold posters and candles to their chests. He can tell Luhan is trying his best to keep it together, but he can see the familiar biting of lips and _knows._ After all, that's _his_  Luhan.

 

"Because of this, I have something to tell you. I don't care what religion you are. I don't care what you believe in. But please, _please_ ," Luhan's voice cracks and there's a shrill scream from the concerned fans. "Pray for him. Keep him in your thoughts. No one should have to die like he did and I'm devastated. We all are," he gestures to Jongin, who's eyes are so pained that Sehun almost begins to cry.  

 

"Remember Oh Sehun. Don't let him die in vain. He trained too hard, worked too hard, and lived too hard to have passed like this. No matter what happens, I hope you will keep supporting all of us during this hard time. I'm sorry to all of the fans. We'll get through this together."

 

Sehun swears to himself before shutting the TV off, leaving himself in stony silence.

 

That's the Luhan he knows, the Luhan who, despite all the hardships, keeps others in his mind so that their burdens will lessen. Luhan who smiles at him at five in the morning everyday despite it being all too early. The Luhan who kissed him like he was everything, who brought him and Jongin together, who somehow kept an uncertain relationship whole.

 

Sehun's lips begin to tremble.

 

_Riiiiiiiing._

 

"Stop calling me!" Sehun growls, getting to his feet in a huff. He pads into the kitchen and swipes the phone off the counter, about to throw it against a wall to face it's unfortunate death, until he sees the user ID. It's Moon Sora. The girl that was, literally, the death of him.

 

Unlocking it angrily, Sehun lets out a hearty, "What do you want?"

 

"Sehun? I've been trying to contact you for the past 3 hours! We give you a phone for a _reason_ \- "

 

"Sora," Sehun grits out, leaning against the counter with his forearms. "I hope you understand that I'm watching the news and I really don't have time for your optimistic speeches."

 

"The news?" Sora squawks. "Oh no. Sehun, whatever you do, you _cannot_  watch the news - "

 

"I already am."

 

There's a pause before she speaks again, quieter this time. "Oh. Have you… seen it?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Oh."

 

There's a thick silence that envelops the two of them, and Sehun can imagine her sitting at her desk trying to come up with words to say. Will it be consolation? Anger? Distress?

 

"Just…" she takes a deep breath. "Don't watch anymore, okay?"

 

Sehun shakes his head. "I don't think I can’t not watch."

 

"You'll be hurt."

 

"I know."

 

"God. I'm sorry it had to happen this way," she says forlornly. "I'm so, so, sorry, Sehun. It's - " her voice cracks. "It's really not fair. To you, I mean."

 

Sehun doesn’t say anything, opting to listen to the quiet sniffles from the other side. He imagines Sora sitting on her big, black swivel chair - industrial size, she wouldn’t accept anything less -  as she leans her elbows against the glass desk. Sitting upon the desk, there will be a rubber ducky and Pororo plush toy for when her three year old visits. Her son is very cute. He can see the Seoul skyline from behind her blindless windows and knows that all the way in the right corner, if you squint, is the infamous SM building.

 

“Jaesun,” she starts, her voice wavering. “I’m sure you already know what you have to do. You'll have to go back in - I - _we_  - don't have anyone inside the field right now.”

 

“I know.” Sehun taps his fingers on the counter. The sound of his real name makes his heart thud in his chest.

 

She sighs. “Okay. Okay. God - just - let me." Sehun hears her scrambling around, hears the shuffling of papers.

 

"Alright," she says. "Are you ready for round 2?"

 

"Always am," Sehun says, ready to process whatever's thrown at him.

 

"Good. Listen up."

 

 

 

 

 

Oh Jaesun is someone who existed to a few people and no one else.  

 

He’s the son of an ex-convict who tried to change from his criminal days in order to better provide for his son. He’s the son of a politician’s secretary, who was shamed and looked down upon for marrying a murderer and graffiti artist. Oh Jaesun’s father had peach fuzz all over his lips and chin. Oh Jaesun’s mother liked American pop music from the 80’s. Oh Jaesun was an honors student and didn’t really care much about his parents’ backgrounds.

 

In 2006, Oh Jaesun died and Oh Sehun was born.

 

“It’s not official,” Sora says to him on the first day they meet. “But intelligence is getting stronger. We learn more and more. The 21st century is a digital book. We can predict everything now - their CEO claims that this boy group will be the most impacting in all kpop history.”

 

Jaesun - no - _Sehun_ doesn’t really care about kpop and shows no inclination of ever doing so. He hums for the sake of humming so that Sora thinks he’s paying attention.

 

“We need someone on the inside. Someone strong, young, fresh. Someone with the ability to handle one of the biggest undercover stints in decades.”

 

“Wow,” Jae - ugh - _Sehun_ yawns, laying his head down on his arms. Sora glares at him from the opposite side of the table. “Are you going to eat that, noona?”

 

“Sehun,” Sora sighs, pushing her bowl of noodles towards him. “You need to be paying attention. This is important.”

 

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Sehun’,” he grumbles. “My name is Jaesun.”

 

Sehun slurps a string of noodles loud enough for it to be called rude, but Sora looks at him patiently. They’ve settled in a small private room in the back of the shop, one that has a door and a call button for the waiters. Sehun’s never been in a room like this before. This is for Very Important People and Sehun is a Not So Important Person.

 

“That’s who you are now,” Sora says. “You’re Oh Sehun. Don’t call yourself Jaesun anymore.”

 

“But _why_ \- “

 

“Enough, Sehun,” she says sharply, and Sehun shrinks into his chair from her gaze. This woman is scary.

 

She takes out a manilla folder that’s large and bulky and intimidating, placing it gingerly in front of him as her manicured fingers reach inside to take mutilple files out, too many files, with pictures of people stapled to the front of them. Sehun’s interest is piqued as he leans forward, trying to see if he recognizes anyone. There’s nobody. He takes in the names that are in bolded black font underneath, and doesn’t recognize them either. Some are Korean and some are Chinese. _Kim Jong In, Wu Yi Fan, Lu Han, Do Kyung Soo_ …

 

Sehun makes a small sound, flitting his fingers over Kim Jongin’s face. “Who are these people?”

 

Sora gives him a tight smile before placing each of the files out for him to see. There are eleven in total. They're all boys with different haircuts, different eyes, different noses, different lives. Each picture of them is candid - some are walking from school, some working, some crossing the street. They're all equally handsome. But Sehun doesn't know any of them.

 

"These are the people who you will protect with your life, Sehun. This is Exo."

 

 

   
 


	2. new identity... who dis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feeling of becoming someone new and creating a new identity is always the hardest part, and both of them know it. Sehun feels like he’s losing more of himself, losing the boy his parents grew up with, and losing a part of himself that resembled better and brighter days.
> 
> in which sehun has an identity crisis, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer that none of these characters resemble their real counterparts in real life, and that I have taken many artistic liberties with the events occurring in this story (i.e. they're still OT12. yes, i know). Thanks and enjoy :))))

At first, Exo did not like Oh Sehun. 

 

To be fair, Sehun himself was never cut out for this kind of life. He grew up learning how to throw knives, fight with people twice his size, and shoot his 9mm at moving targets. Formal dance and vocal training? Not in the picture. Sehun didn’t even know what a body roll was until Kim Jongin rolled his eyes and taught him begrudgingly. Apparently, if you were going into the idol life, you were supposed to be able to perform a body roll straight from the  _womb_. 

 

The vocal lessons were worse. Teachers would look at him in disdain and sigh upon seeing his presence entering the room.  _Such a shame_ , they would say.  _He has such a pretty face, but no talent._

 

Exo, for lack of a better word, was confused. They’d been told, on a random occurrence, that a new boy would be added to their roster of current members. No one had ever seen him before - apparently, he was a “trainee” from a “different company”. 

 

They couldn’t hide their despair of having to debut with someone with literally no talent. Sehun couldn’t really blame them. Some of them had trained for years to get to where they were today and he himself had received a fast-pass to celebrity stardom and hadn’t even asked for it. Sure, they were nice, but Sehun didn’t miss the conversations they’d had about him behind his back. 

 

_He’s going to bring us all down. We won’t be able to win a music show if he can’t keep up with us. Did you see the way he was stumbling over his feet yesterday? He can’t even rap without stuttering._

 

“I don’t care if it’s hard,” Sora had sighed, and Sehun could practically hear her roll her eyes across the receiver. “You need to blend in, Sehun. And if that means moving your hips and rapping about girls, then so be it. Lee Soo Man is not particularly pleased with your performance, and if you want to keep your position in that group, you need to get your act together. Otherwise…” she trails off, but Sehun doesn’t need her to finish it. 

 

It would be the words he dreads the most:  _Otherwise, you have failed the mission._

 

He had to prove them wrong.

 

After giving himself multiple pep talks and binge watching self-motivation videos on Youtube, Sehun started to pay attention in the dance classes with newfound intensity. Treated them as if he was back in the American compound unit where he threw knives and shot moving targets. Sehun poured his heart and his soul into becoming an idol. He swallowed his pride and asked the members who disliked him the most for help, because he knew, deep down in his gut, that he could not fail this mission, no matter what he had to do. 

 

“You’re different now,” Luhan had said one night, leaning against the doorframe as Sehun practiced the same moves over and over again. It was almost 4:00 in the morning. “You care about this now.”

 

Sehun knew Luhan had been watching him for the last 30 minutes, but he still stumbled over his feet when the man spoke up. “Ah - fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I not care about this before?” he asked teasingly, attempting casualness. 

 

Luhan’s smile was softer now. A few weeks ago, every smile he’d shot in Sehun’s direction had been forced and laced with something sharp.  

 

“You tell me, Oh Sehun.”

 

Luhan pushed away from the doorframe and stood next to the younger, who was still panting from his last routine. There was always something about Luhan that made him nervous, something that made him think twice about his words, something that made his heart beat a little too fast. Luhan grinned at him in the mirror. He took his arm and positioned it in the air, just slanting his wrist so that he could create a new picture. Sehun tried not to think about how delicate Luhan’s fingers felt wrapped around his wrist and what they would look good doing, particularly to him...

 

“Hit it in this position every time,” Luhan murmured. “Sharp, and right on the beat. Before, you did it too soft. In the dance, this movement is strong.” 

 

Sehun swallowed and nodded, practicing the same movement a couple of times. A comfortable silence enveloped the two. Luhan hummed encouragingly each time, giving small corrections when Sehun began to slip. 

 

Eventually, after a couple of minutes that felt like hours, Luhan’s eyes met with his in the mirror. 

 

“Let’s try it with music,” he said, a smile appearing on his face.

 

Things were getting better. Sehun tried not to feel too gleeful at the recent turn of events as he didn’t want to risk any off chance of jinxing himself. Sora had always called him out on being too superstitious, but he cheerfully liked to think that a bodyguard like him could never be too careful.

 

There had been close calls. Times when Sehun would see a flicker of movement out of his eye and just  _know_ that something wasn’t right. He’d run out the door, Junmyeon yelling after him, and Sehun would be out of sight just in time to block a punch aimed at his face. People wanted to kill these boys, and Sehun still had no idea  _why_ , but the attacks were becoming more and more frequent and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up before people began to notice.

 

He received an earful from Junmyeon on the way home, and ignored Jongin’s reproachful glare and Luhan’s questioning gaze. In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror with his shirt pulled up to see the flowering bruises littering his stomach, and made a mental reminder to change in private from now on. Things were going to be okay, he told himself. He had to breathe. Stay calm. Sehun would never fail a mission, not if his life depended on it. He  _couldn’t_. Because it wasn’t his own life that he was trying to protect - there were eleven others. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was hard, thinking about it, because honestly? Sehun feels like his hard work is spiraling down the drain. 

 

The underground lab they’re in seems like something that’s come out of a movie. Advanced pieces of technology are mantled everywhere he looks, and Sehun’s kind of scared that he’ll touch something and it’ll be able to download every memory he’s had. He’s seen way too many Black Mirror episodes to be trusting of this futuristic shit. 

 

“Don’t touch that,” Sora snaps when his hand gets too close to some orb-looking thing by accident. 

 

Sehun gulps and eyes it skeptically. 

 

Moonkyu, their tech guy, is pretty smooth and suave by nature. Sehun half expected him to be some sort of League of Legends nerd, considering his credentials, but Moonkyu has the confidence of a tiger and a look that says  _don’t mess with me._ Also, he has the power to really fuck up Sehun’s job or make it a lot easier. 

 

“Jaesun,” Moonkyu murmurs his greeting, a quirk to his lips. 

 

Sehun isn’t used to hearing his real name being said out loud. It makes him feel… uneasy, but comfortable. Oddly comfortable. 

 

“I hear you have something for me,” Sehun responds.

 

There’s a glint in Moonkyu’s eyes as he swivels around in his chair, revealing something on the table behind him in dramatic fashion. Sehun leans forward, narrowing his eyes as he tries to interpret what type of technology Moonkyu has beholded him this time. He sees the bridge of a nose, pale skin, and - oh for God’s sake - a goddamn beauty mole.

 

“Your new face,” Sora points out helpfully. 

 

Sehun makes a small sound, similar to that of a dying animal.

 

“I tried a mix between Kim Woobin and Lee Kwangsoo.” Moonkyu crows proudly, watching gleefully as Sehun’s face morphs from despair to resignation. “Try it on, see if it fits.”

 

Sehun does try it on, and after some mixed reactions from their tech crew and a couple of unsubtle pictures from Sora (“Oops, I forgot I had flash on!”), Moonkyu places a sort of activation agent on it so that it becomes permanent. 

 

It all goes too fast. 

 

“Say the word  _firebomb_ and the mask will come off,” Moonkyu says quietly, smoothing down the lines along Sehun’s cheek. “It responds to your voice only. Obviously once it comes off, you won’t be able to get it back on without coming to me. So make sure that when you really want to take it off, it’s for good reason.”

 

Sehun bristles. The wet sloppy gel gets smothered onto his chin and he wonders to himself how he ever got to this point in life. Moonkyu’s hands press the mask on his face gently, but it still hurts him with every single push. 

 

The technician glances him with gentle eyes, without their usual mirth.

 

“You know… you’re still you, Jaesun. Even with this stupid mask on and everything.”

 

Sehun tenses at the use of his real name. Moonkyu has been in the business for as long as he has, and he isn’t a stranger to field work either. The feeling of becoming someone new and creating a new identity is always the hardest part, and both of them know it. Sehun feels like he’s losing more of himself, losing the boy his parents grew up with, and losing a part of himself that resembled better and brighter days. Right now, he doesn’t really know who he is. His real self is buried underneath layers of falsities. Sehun yearns for the days when he can just be free. 

 

He grinds his teeth together and slowly shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like I am.”

 

For the rest of the day, Sehun avoids looking at mirrors. 

  
  
  


 

 

 

They leave for SM’s building in two hours. Sehun’s brand new life starts in two hours.

 

Sora leans back heavily in her big leather swivel chair. They’re in a conference room, with files and pictures strewn messily across the large table between them. Sehun fidgets uncomfortably, touching his newfound face and feeling the features, a twinge of anxiety blooming when he feels the ridges of unfamiliarity and strangeness. 

 

“I’ll be honest with you,” Sora sighs. She looks like an angry tiger mom whose child has just bombed the SAT. “This is basically going to shit.”

 

Sehun looks at the pictures of Exo on the table. He’s included in some of them. They look so happy and relaxed, like they couldn’t be bothered. An image so far from the present.  

 

“How bad is it?”

 

“Bad enough that we’re sending you back in with the people you’ve been undercover with for the past 3 years. If we were in a better situation, you’d be out of this case completely.” Sora shakes her head. “I mean, you’re dead, for crying out loud.”

 

Sehun knows this. Any slip-up will cause major damage, not to mention a whole lot of contingency issues. 

 

“I’ll be careful,” he says. He points finger guns at her in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood.  “I’m a careful person.”

 

Sora glances at him dryly.

 

“And I won’t interact with them. I’ll stay out of sight.” It hurts his chest to say such things. But he knows that its for the better. 

 

“No,” Sora interrupts, pursing her lips. She pauses for a bit, looking down at the file in front of her. “Don’t do that. You’ll actually be working as their Assistant Manager.”

 

Sehun blinks at her.  _That can’t be right._

 

There’s a moment of silence between them before he begins to speak in protest, because he  _knows_ this is a Very Bad Idea and that this will not turn out well. He shouldn’t be near them, not after everything they’ve been through. The chances of them finding out are astronomically high. And Sehun himself is too emotionally involved - it proposes a fuck-up of the highest order. Yet Sora raises up her hand in dismissal and shakes her head. 

 

“Listen, listen. You need to be with them at all times. The threat to them is greater now, more than ever. Besides being an idol, this is the next best position to have so that you can keep them safe.”

 

“Sora, this is  _not_ going to end well - “

 

“You need to make it work, Sehun.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Sehun grips the table in front of him. “I got close to them, okay? We - we  _bonded_ and became friends, and they know my habits and how I act. I can’t be someone else around them! It’ll be  _way_ too obvious -  “

 

Sora pulls out a photo in front of him and drops it on the table as if she’s dropping a mic. “Oh, you mean this close?” 

 

The photo is incriminating. Sehun’s back is up against a wall as Jongin presses heavily into him, their mouths meeting for an open and heated kiss. Luhan’s face buried in Sehun’s neck, teeth biting at a spot near his jugular, his hand is making a reach for  _something_ down near Sehun’s crotch. Sehun’s hands are trapped above his head, one held by Jongin, and the other held by Luhan, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand what they’re doing. 

 

Sehun feels the blush full force on his face and his neck. He flips the photo over hastily, pushing it towards her, but he overestimates the distance and it lands on the opposite side of the table on the floor. Sora judges thoroughly.

 

“I didn’t know anyone saw this,” he whispers. 

 

“A huge mistake on your part,” she acknowledges, although there’s a ghost of a smirk on her face. “Moonkyu said he particularly enjoyed taking those photos.”

 

The thought of Moonkyu watching this makes Sehun want to melt into a puddle on the floor. “How - when - “

 

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you entered a relationship of some sort with your clients. I mean, what were you  _thinking_ , Sehun? There’s no way you could’ve thought that  _this_ \- “ she stabs a manicured finger at the evidence. “ - could  _ever_ become something. It makes you soft, it gives you a weakness, and it distracts you from the endgame.”

 

Sehun has no answer. His mouth feels dry. How could he ever explain that this was something he had tried so hard to fight, something he tossed and turned about every night before bed, something that made him crazy at the end of the day? After striking up an unlikely friendship with Jongin and Luhan, Sehun had never really thought that they’d find an interest in someone like him. After all, they’d already had each other. Add a third one into the mix, and the equation is broken. 

 

But suddenly, Luhan’s touches with him had become more frequent. At the end of the day, he would find Jongin lying in his bed, curled up in his sheets, smiling up at him lazily. They knew what they were doing to him. It was unavoidable. His days were filled with nonstop Luhan and Jongin, Luhan and Jongin, and he found he couldn’t pretend anymore because damn, Sehun was good at resisting temptation, but never quite like  _this._ They were intoxicating and irresistible, and there was no way Sehun couldn’t have fallen for their charms, no matter how much he tried. 

 

“I know,” he sighs, because he can’t even begin to think how can formulate that into words. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sora’s eyes turn a shade soft amidst her perfect winged eyeliner, but she still leans forward, her voice hard. “There isn’t any excuse, Sehun. You may have fucked up before, but you have a chance to make things right. You need to save and protect these boys, so that this group you’ve grown to care for lives another day. We can’t have any repeats of the bombing, and those who did it are already planning their next move. This is it. If you don’t get this right, everything goes to shit. You die, we die, everyone dies.”

 

“...Is that slightly exaggerated or - “

 

“I need you on top of your game,” she finishes, leaning back in her chair, regarding him with her dark eyes. She closes the file in front of her and Sehun feels kind of like he’s in a James Bond movie. Except, no, this is real life. 

 

“Do you accept this mission, Oh Sehun?”

 

He gulps and digs the fingers of his right hand into his palm. It’s a lot of pressure. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t work well under these circumstances. Rarely does he get second chances, but the stakes are higher now more than ever. He can’t afford to mess up this time, not when he has important people to protect.

 

He nods. “Yes. I accept the mission.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Youngjun looks him up and down as Sehun lowkey has an internal crisis. 

 

These hallways are too familiar. The floors, the lights, the walls. He thought he’d never see them again. He remembers running around here in the early morning and coming back to it late at night. He remembers passing out around that spot near the corner over there. Good times. 

 

Coming back to the Exo dorms was an adventure. Sehun couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t have a slight mental breakdown on the way here because it seemed like the bombing was only a few days ago, not  _months_ , and it seemed like it was only yesterday where he was making fun of his group mates and causing typical Maknae Mayhem. 

 

“Ya, An Junggeun!” Tak Youngjun gives him a level headed stare, his infamous clipboard tucked under his side. “Are you listening to me?”

 

Sehun looks up at him and is reminded of Youngjun’s many lectures. The Head Manager could be brutally honest and blunt at times, but he had done an excellent job of turning twelve boys into dedicated idols. Sehun had learned to appreciate him for that. 

 

“Sorry, sir.” Sehun bows his head. 

 

His now black-dyed hair falls into his eyes. It’s long, and it curls around his nape, giving him a really disastrous mullet. 

 

Youngjun sighs. “We need to get the boys up and running in 30 minutes. Now I trust that you will go introduce yourself and get them into the vans in that amount of time. Your resume claims you have much experience with managing, and I’m holding you to it.”

 

Sehun nods. Youngjun gestures to his pocket.  

 

“I already put my number into your phone. If you need anything, call me. Do you understand, Junggeun?”

 

“Geun,” Sehun says abruptly, finally meeting the Manager’s eyes. “You can call me Geun.”

 

Youngjun raises an eyebrow, then shrugs with indifference. He starts making his way down the hall to the elevators, giving Sehun a short wave. “Geun it is. You have 25 minutes now. Better get moving!”

 

Next thing Sehun knows, he’s standing in an empty hallway. He takes a deep breath. 

 

Swivelling around to face the door to the Exo dorm, he only now realizes that he has no backup, no real plan, and - okay, let’s face it -  _what the fuck is he even doing here???_ It’s like all the training Sehun’s been through in his entire life has been for nothing. He’s so  _nervous._ Sehun never gets nervous. Sehun is a top! notch! bodyguard! and he has no time for his feelings to get in the way, and yet his heart aches and  _yearns_ and pounds in his chest and sweat drips from his temple onto the tiles below.

 

This is absurdly different. He’s never been trained to go into missions surrounded by people he cares about, least of all had some intimate history with. It also doesn’t help that Sehun is emotionally unavailable and doesn’t know  _what_ he will do if he’s ever found out, because that will decidedly make things 100 times worse. 

 

His body makes the choice for him instead and next think he knows, his hand knocks three short times. 

 

There’s no answer. 

 

Biting his lip, he knocks again, this time a little louder.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a voice behind the door shouts. Sehun’s hand falls limply to his side.

 

The door swings open and Junmyeon leans a hand against it, his hair in a messy halo above his head. “Apologies, Youngjun-sshi, some of our members overslept this morning and I’ve been trying to get them moving - “ he pauses and blinks, finally getting a good look of Sehun. 

Junmyeon’s eyes scan him skeptically, his hand tightening on the door as he shuts it a little closer. 

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Ah - I’m Oh - I’m An Junggeun,” he stammers, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.  _Great start._

 

Junmyeon looks at him quizzically. 

 

“An Junggeun,” he repeats louder this time, with more confidence. “I’m the new Assistant Manager for Exo.” Sehun reaches down near his belt loops to tug up the badge that is fastened there, showing his name, his position, and a particularly ugly picture of himself. 

 

Junmyeon eyes turn wide in surprise as he looks down at the badge, opening the door a little wider. “Oh! Sorry about that. Sometimes we get some random people showing up at the door, so I get a little cautious. Youngjun-sshi did say someone new was coming over today.”

 

“Yeah,” Sehun agrees lamely. “Right. That’s… me.”

 

“Come on in,” Junmyeon smiles, opening the door at its full capacity. His posture softens and he bows, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. Despite his cheery countenance, the leader looks more exhausted than usual, and Sehun can probably guess why. “It’a a little crazy, but I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

 

Bless Kim Junmyeon’s sweet little heart. 

 

Sehun straightens his posture to seem more authoritative and more in charge, the way that both Youngjun and Sora carry themselves. First impressions are always key, and Sehun plans to make his presence known so that he’ll be able to gain respect. Once he walks through this door, the mission is in action. There’s no take-backs, no mess-ups, and definitely no room for feelings. He is no longer Oh Sehun around these boys, but An Junggeun. 

 

Clearing his throat, he nods respectfully to Junmyeon, and walks through the door. 

 

In a matter of seconds, Sehun’s brand new life begins.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, she is kind of filler BUUUT we'll be meeting the exo boys next chapter!! i don't want this fic to be super long so i've capped it at 10 chapters; hopefully it'll be less than that. i hope you guys liked this chapter. things will start to pick up next update! see you next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my fics crossposted from aff! I got so much inspo for this one recently (which i also wrote YEARS ago (much like my other fic lol)) so I'm going to try and ride out this inspiration while it lasts. I hope you guys like this first chapter, hopefully I can get a second one out soon!


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